Oblivion
by Deepy
Summary: You're going down a path that I can't follow. What if Padme could follow it? Life in an alternate universe with no hope, where love has become poison, where the only way out is found in the temporary oblivion. Oneshot. Darth VadarPadme


_I will go down with this ship_

_And I won't put my hands up and surrender_

_There will be no white flag above my door_

_I'm in love and always will be_

Oblivion

Blood…

Blood everywhere.

She closed her eyes.

Blood behind her eyelids. The red a glaring contrast to the darkness of the room.

She could taste it.

Blood between her lips, from the pain of biting down on them to prevent herself from screaming. From agony, from pleasure, from just wanting to die, for everything to end, or worst, for it to keep on going.

She could feel it.

Blood flowing quickly through her veins. Hot, burning, leaving their searing trail as they flowed down her legs. The blood in her fingernails, as they left their marks on his back, scratches and scars, dented and yet, having no effect. Such marks didn't hurt him, they were only of the physical, things that no longer seemed to have any effect on him. On the contrary, they only seemed to make him go faster, quicken, relentlessly pushing them both past their breaking point. Even if she wanted to hurt him, truly hurt him, it was impossible. She couldn't bear to and she wasn't sure that it was possible for her to hurt him, as much as he has hurt her. It wasn't, when every day, when he was not with her, he was causing her pain.

Nights such as this came often, after a day of conquest, of destroying lives and liberties, he would come to her, exhausted but not spent. When she laid down to sleep, he was rarely with her. She had lost count of how many nights she drifted off into an uneasy slumber alone, in the cold. Then, she would awaken, for she was always a light sleeper, through his fevered kisses, his whispering of her name, his hands, caressing and bruising, stripping her of her nightgown (he hated taking her with their clothes on, uncivilized, he said it was). Those hands, that have caused so much pain, so much grief and death, were the same hands that touched her hair in the night, that roamed her body, creating pain on her skin as well as below the surface.

Those hands… Unrelenting. Pushing into her to the point of madness, marring her breasts, hips, and thighs with his touch, with his teeth, mixed with kisses and cries. It was night like these that she felt she might burst apart, where she felt that this torture, this horrible exquisite torture would be her end, would finally kill her. Yet she would not stop it, not for anything. It never killed her, though at this point, death might be a blessing. The real kind of death, the real oblivion. Not this madness which he was steadily driving her towards now, but the real kind, the permanent kind. If she did not have so much to lose, she would even consider giving it to her herself. The perfect escape. Then again, she was never the type to take the coward's way out.

Yet one can't kill those who are already dead. For that was what she was now, a shell, so unreal, so cold. If she looked in the mirror, she would see a stranger, a ghost of the past sent to haunt her. This person, whose hand, like her husband's, held the blood of so many, a coward, a traitor. It was how she lived her life day by day, how she could deal with the loss, the grief, the anger, the frustration of so many years. By convincing herself that this was no longer her, that she had died long ago. It dulled the pain, though did not make it go away. It didn't dull the pain of the losses, of the shame and betrayal, of knowing that everything that is now in motion was all because of her. Her, who had betrayed everything she had believed in, betrayed the people to whom she had been friends to, comrades, all whom she had loved, all of whom were dead or on the brink of. All for one man, because she was weak, because she could not let go of something that should have died, along with her.

The tears she had shed, behind closed doors and windows, away from the eyes of her children, away from his eyes. Though she had no doubt that he could feel the anguish within her. And if he did know, he did not show it. For to say such things aloud would be to open up the snake jar, unleashing a poison that could not be contained.

So he came to her every night, perhaps out of guilt, not out of the things he has done, but perhaps out of what he has done to her, how he knew it affected her, beneath the calm demeanor, caresses and the smiles that no longer reached her eyes. Perhaps in his heart, he knew what he was doing to her, day by day. And yet, he did not know how to stop it, he couldn't stop it. If he knew, if he could, would he stop? The only thing he could give to her that mattered was this oblivion, to make her forget, to make them both forget. This life that was barely a life.

"Padme…" His voice, begging, pleading with her, the unspoken cry. _Please forgive me._ Could she? Was it possible?

His grip on her hips tightened, she knew that any bruises he left would be healed after this was done. Perhaps he couldn't bear seeing his marks on her, a physical representation of what was on the inside. Internal scars that he caused, and did nothing to heal, for there was nothing that can be done. Scars caused by love, too much of which, like anything else, was poisonous.

Love… The word itself seemed to mock her now. Taunting her, this cold heart which was so deformed, could it still be called a heart? Was this still love? If it was, it was as deformed as the hearts which desperately held it in their grasp. A long time ago, in what seemed like another universe, it had seemed the perfect reason for action, however rash.

Now, it seemed that she was constantly asking herself if it was a good enough reason. It was now her life, it was her cage, it was her torture, the cause of all that has come about. And yet, for the life of her (whatever life there was left), she could not let it go, couldn't let go of this poison, the source of all her agony and her grief. She cursed her weakness for not being able to hate him, for loving him so. She hated what he has become, she hated the Empire, she hated the emperor, but most of all she hated herself. Yet, she could never hate him, her husband, the father of her children who were now the possessions of the Empire. She hated everything, but she could not hate him, it would be so much easier if she did, if she could just destroy this love, this poison in her veins. But she needed it too much, they both did.

It was not long for the oblivion to envelop her, as it did him, making her cry out, to forget, however temporary, her pain. She could hear his cry in her ear, feel his warmth within her, burning her, scarring her once again, as he so often did, day by day. She clung to him now, as if she was clinging onto her last breath, if she let go, she would be lost forever, never to return. Perhaps that was why she still clung, to this love that was a torture for them both. She couldn't let him go, just as he couldn't let her go, this poison had become too addicting and now, it was impossible to stop. Just like now as they remained laying here, glistening bodies, limbs holding desperately to one another, to this love that was a poison and a release. And the both of them embraced the release, this oblivion that come morning, would disappear as if in a dream, leaving them both colder in its wake. Then, they would come back to it, again and again, him leading her to it though kisses and caresses, through blood and bruises.

For in the end, it was the only way to forget.

A/N: This was my first attempt at anything Star Wars. For all you English freaks, the fragments are intentional, please don't kill me! And for all you Star Wars fans, if anything seemed OOC, please forgive me also, I have only seen the movies and was not happy with George Lucus' lack-luster delivery of the story and the characters. But the Anakin/Padme relationship, tragic and desperate, fascinated me so much that I had to write something about it. Please tell me what you think.

For anyone wondering, the song quoted in the beginning is "White Flag" by Dido.


End file.
